


I could have lost you

by Twice_before_Friday



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Face-Fucking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/pseuds/Twice_before_Friday
Summary: Malcolm has once again run headlong into danger.  JT is pissed.It's okay, though, everyone gets a happy ending.(heed the tags)
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Comments: 19
Kudos: 101





	I could have lost you

**Author's Note:**

> Well. This is sooooooo far out of my wheelhouse. It's my first ever attempt at writing smut, so feedback is very welcome.
> 
> This was not at all where I intended this fic to go when I was writing it. It was supposed to be a short little thing that ended with a kiss. The boys had other ideas in mind. Also, as much as I already like Tally, we're going to pretend JT isn't married for the purposes of this fic.
> 
> So... Merry Christmas, here's some face-fucking.

JT is pissed. Malcolm can see it in the set of his shoulders, stiff and rigid and pulled up just a bit too high; in his jaw, which is clenched so hard that Malcolm feels a sympathetic twinge in his own teeth; in his hands, balled into tight fists at his side and likely leaving half crescent marks buried in his palms.

Malcom thought that he had been making progress with JT after their first few disastrous encounters (and he still berates himself for that damn necrophiliac comment – what kind of first impression was that?) thought that the man was finally warming up to him, but the rage in his eyes right now is making him rethink that supposition. Bright unlocks the door to his apartment and gestures for JT to step through first with a sweeping hand. JT steps in, back straight and chest out, his military background broadcasting loud and clear. Malcolm silently follows him in, closing the door behind them.

With an almost inaudible sigh, Malcolm slowly makes his way into his apartment, arms wrapped gingerly around his torso, and turns to find that JT is still standing in front of the door, looking like he is barely holding himself in check. Even from where he’s standing near the kitchen island, Bright can see the faint tremor running through the man like an electric current.

“Look, JT, I’m sorry you got stuck with babysitting duty, but you don’t have to stay. I’m fine, really, and…”

“Shut up,” JT interrupts. It’s barely more than a whisper but it’s clearly a command, not a request, and Malcolm’s mouth slams shut immediately. JT still isn’t even looking his direction but Malcolm feels pinned in place, watching JT’s jaw twitch as he breathes in deeply, visibly trying to control his temper.

It seems to be a bit of a stalemate as Bright stands staring at JT, and JT stands staring at the staircase leading up to Bright's office. Malcolm uses the time to replay the events of the night in his head, reliving what he did wrong that made JT so angry.

\---

They had been working the latest serial killer case for over a week – a spree killer that was showing no signs of slowing down. It was late nights and early mornings and pressure from the brass as the bodies stacked up. They were all a little on edge by the time Bright connected all the dots and identified their killer earlier that evening.

It led them to an office building; a 50-floor skyscraper where the killer worked at a risk management firm. The building was fairly deserted when they got there just before 9 in the evening, mostly just custodial and security staff left at that time of night.

They took the elevator up to the 36th floor and exited into the dimly lit foyer. Gil, JT and Dani all pulled out their guns as they walked towards the firm’s office space, using the access card they retrieved from security to unlock the door and let themselves in.

“Wait here,” Gil said quietly to Malcolm as the door quietly snicked shit behind them. Malcolm nodded absently, looking around and taking in the open-plan office space in front of him. There were a handful of offices around the perimeter, but the majority of the space was filled with 5x5 cubicles, every space looking exactly the same with few, if any, personal touches. Malcolm had suspected their killer worked in a rigid and uniform environment and this confirmed his suspicions. It was the type of office where individuality was frowned upon and compliance was expected.

Apparently their killer had found a different way to express his individuality when he started beating people to death. All of their victims seemed to have been chosen at random, a horrible wrong-place-wrong-time situation, and all of them had been beaten beyond recognition. Some with fists and feet, others with a blunt object that the killer found at the scene of the crime.

When Malcolm was finally able to identify the killer, the company gave the NYPD access to their computer systems and found that he was logged into his account at the office. They rushed over immediately, calling for backup on the way but deciding not to wait and risk having their killer slip away.

So Malcolm stood watching as the rest of the team split up to search the office, guns at the ready as they silently glided through the space. It was only a few minutes later that Malcolm saw movement to his right and watched as a door was quietly closed behind someone. He quickly walked over and saw that the door was marked as an emergency stairwell. He briefly looked around for signs of his team, but they were nowhere in sight. He opened the door and peered up the stairs, seeing nothing. He had to move in a bit further in order to see down the next flight of stairs, and as soon as he did, the door banged shut behind him and he was slammed against the wall.

The impact stunned him for a second, and before he could even get his bearings, he felt hands on his shoulders, pulling him down and bending him at the waist, only to be met with a knee slammed hard into his solar plexus. The pain was intense and he dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around his torso as his breath left him in a whoosh and his eyes started watering relentlessly.

His lungs seemed unable to inflate after the blow, and right as he was beginning to panic about not getting enough air, the same hands were on him once again, this time lifting him slightly to throw him forcefully down the flight of stairs. His shoulder took the brunt of the first step he hit, Malcolm instinctively wrapping his arms around his head as he flew down the stairs. His hip and knee took most of the impact of the next step he hit, and another took him straight across his back between the shoulder blades.

It was only a matter of seconds after he slammed into the wall at the landing that he felt the first of the kicks as it drove hard into his back. He rolled onto his back and let out a pained cry, barely having time to be thankful that his lungs seemed to be working again, before the next kick made contact with his side. The killer leaned over Malcom, planting his hands on the wall, supporting his weight and keeping his balance so he could more forcefully land his blows.

After three or four more powerful kicks, the deafening sound of gunfire echoed through the stairwell and the killer slumped down on top of Malcolm. The thundering sound of footsteps was the only warning he had before the killer was yanked off of Malcolm by an enraged JT.

He spared a moment to check for a pulse on their killer and Malcolm could read it on JT's face that a part of him was hoping not to find one. That part was apparently granted its wish, and JT holstered his gun and turned his full attention to Malcom.

“You okay?” JT asked breathlessly. He had morphed from irate to seriously distressed in no time flat and Malcolm furrowed his brow in confusion at the abrupt change. JT mistook his confusion for injury and let loose a string of profanities while he pulled out his phone, fumbling to call for an ambulance as he dropped to his knees beside Malcolm.

“I’m fine,” Malcolm groaned, reaching out to cover JT’s hand with his own, pulling the phone down and out of the way. He took a few shallow breaths to test the waters before trying to breathe in a little deeper. There was a tight pull across his ribs, but he knew exactly what broken ribs felt like and knew that he had been spared that injury, at least.

JT looked down at him doubtfully but tucked his phone away for the time being. His hands were hovering restlessly above Malcolm, clearly wanting to help, to make sure he was really alright, but not wanting to cause any pain by touching him. Their eyes met and Malcolm felt that he could easily get lost in depths of emotion in JT’s dark eyes. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what he was seeing.

The slam of the door above them bursting open and rushed footsteps on the stairs broke their strange stillness.

“Bright!” Dani yelled as she saw him lying on the floor. She dropped to his side beside JT while Gil stopped to check for a pulse on their killer.

“How bad is it, Bright?” Gil asked as he straightened up, leaving the body of their killer to be dealt with later.

“I’m fine,” Malcolm said, working to push himself up. JT grabbed hold of his shoulders and supported him as he moved into a sitting position against the wall beside him, moaning only slightly at the contact with JT and the wall.

Gil rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, calling for ESU, CSU and an ambulance. Bright tried to convince him that he didn’t need an ambulance but Gil cut him off with an upraised hand and a look that said ‘don’t even try'.

“The paramedics will check you over,” Gil stated firmly. “If they say you need to go to the hospital, then you will go to the hospital. This is not up for debate.”

Malcolm conceded with a sigh and looked over at JT, who was refusing to make eye contact with him all of a sudden, and who seemed to be swinging back into anger as he stared at the bleeding body of the killer. JT abruptly got off the floor and started up the stairs, gruffly stating, “I’ll go meet ESU.”

The next hour or so passed in a blur of movement. The paramedics came and collected Malcolm, who refused the offer of a stretcher and tenderly got to his feet and made his own way outside. JT’s gave his statement after his gun was confiscated pending an investigation into the shooting, all of which was standard procedure but sucked none the less. Dani and Gil had to stay and work the scene, but JT, who was now off of active duty, was standing near the ambulance with his arms crossed over his broad chest, watching with laser focus as the medics checked Malcolm over.

As Malcolm painfully shrugged out of his shirt, he caught a glimpse of JT's face and was taken aback by the flash of anger in his eyes. JT had caught sight of the multitude of red welts across Malcolm’s chest, sides and back and turned away, tension building in his shoulders. The medics finished their exam and determined that, although it would be a good idea for him to go to the hospital, it wasn’t strictly necessary.

Malcolm had just climbed out of the back of the ambulance and was struggling to get his shirt back on as Gil walked over to join them, JT still standing several feet away. Malcolm smiled weakly at Gil after the older man gently placed a hand on the back of his neck.

“How are you doing, kid?” he asked quietly.

Malcolm felt like a broken record as he replied, “I’m fine, Gil. Really. I just want to go home.”

Gil peered at him intently, looking for signs of a deceit, but found none. He gave Malcolm’s neck a squeeze before going over to talk with the paramedic that was tidying up the back of the ambulance. She gave him a rundown of Malcolm’s injuries and also gave the all clear for Malcolm to leave.

Gil beckoned JT over as he made his way back to Malcolm.

“JT, take Bright home and get him settled in. I don’t want to see either of you at the precinct tomorrow.” He turned to JT and sincerely added, “It was a clean kill. It will be cleared as a good shot, you don’t need to worry.”

Malcolm looked over as JT nodded once, but JT was quite purposefully avoiding looking his way.

“Bright, can you at least try and take it easy?” Gil added with a smirk. “I’ll send a uniform over in the morning to take your statement. If you need anything, you call me. Got it?” He pulled him in for a quick hug, releasing him but keeping a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

Malcolm nodded, eyes downcast at the display of affection. Gil gave one last look over the two of them and, with a nod, headed back to the crime scene.

JT turned and headed for his car, leaving Malcolm unsure if he should follow or not. It was pretty clear that Malcolm was not JT's favorite person at the moment, and to add insult to injury, he had just been relegated to babysitting duty.

Malcolm understood JT’s anger. It was his fault JT had to fire his weapon and was now going to be stuck on desk duty until he was cleared. Malcolm shouldn’t have allowed the killer to get the upper hand. He had years of martial arts training, not to mention FBI field work training, that he should have been able to draw on. He should have been able to take care of himself, and then JT wouldn’t have had to kill a man to protect him.

Malcolm was drawn from his thoughts as JT barked out his name from across the street.

“Bright! Today, man.”

Malcolm slowly made his way to the car, taking care not to jostle his aching shoulder or ribs. The car ride was uncomfortably silent; Malcolm was deriding himself for his poor performance and JT was stewing in his anger. By the time they pulled up in front of Bright’s apartment, Malcolm was feeling utterly dejected and JT was a seething ball of rage.

\---

Malcolm recognizes that it’s his fault JT had to shoot the suspect. JT was formerly a military man and has been a cop for years, so this was obviously not his first kill, but Malcolm knows that it never gets easier to take a life. He assumes that’s why JT is as angry as he is and feels terrible about having put him in that position.

JT finally looks over at Bright, taking in his defeated posture and the disappointed look on his face and a little of the anger vanishes. Enough to make it so he can maybe have this conversation without screaming at the broken man across the room. Maybe.

“You can’t just…” JT starts, but interrupts himself with a huff of breath. “What the fuck were you thinking? Hmm? When you followed a fucking serial killer into a stairwell, unarmed, and without backup.” JT practically yells the last part before he catches himself and takes another deep breath.

Malcolm is caught off-guard by the sudden outburst and takes a step backwards, his back hitting the kitchen island, making him whimper at the impact against one of his welts.

As soon as the sound leaves Bright’s mouth, JT is crossing the room, suddenly standing in front of Malcolm before he even realizes his feet are moving. Some of the anger in his features has been replaced by worry, and Malcolm doesn’t know what to do with that.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t have let him take me down, I should have been able to fight him off and I…”

“Shut up,” JT cuts off Malcolm’s self-flagellation. “Bright. Do you even know how stupid it was for you to follow him? You keep fucking throwing yourself into these situations like it doesn’t matter if you come out in one piece,” JT was right up in Malcolm’s personal space, frustration rolling off him in waves. “It fucking matters, man. You fucking matter.”

Malcolm’s eyes widen at the unexpected sentiment and he is left slightly dumbstruck. He honestly has no idea what to say to that. The fact that JT thinks that he matters is safely tucked away into a quiet corner of his mind to obsess over later; when the man in question isn’t only a foot away, breathing heavily as he tries to gain control of his emotions. Malcolm’s eyes drop to the floor, but JT reaches out and cups his chin, surprisingly gentle considering how tense the man is, and tilts his head to look up at him.

“We could have lost you today,” he takes a beat before adding a little lower, “I could have lost you today.”

Malcolm’s sure he must be misreading the heartbreak on JT's face as he says this. He’s sure that the longing that he’s seeing in JT's eyes is only a reflection of what he himself is feeling, has felt for months. He’s sure that he is reading into it when JT's tongue darts out to wet his lips, Malcolm’s eyes following the movement eagerly. He’s sure that JT is going to hear his heart beating frantically in his chest and will step away, repulsed.

And then he’s not sure of anything as JT's lips lightly brush against his own. JT’s right hand is still holding Malcolm’s chin in place but his left moves to gently rest on Malcolm’s hip. The kiss lasts for only a few seconds before JT pulls back, resting his forehead against Malcolm’s, both men closing their eyes and breathing the other in.

“You scared the shit out of me today, Bright,” JT said, much more calmly this time. “When I walked in and saw you on the ground, saw him wailing on you…” JT’s breath catches in this throat and his grip on Malcolm’s hip tightens a little, like he needs to reassure himself that he's really there.

“I’m sorry,” Malcolm whispers, bringing his hands up to rest on JT’s chest and pulls his head back just a little so he can look the other man in the eye. “Thank you for saving my life.”

He hadn’t said it earlier, thinking that JT was angry about having to shoot someone because of him. But now that he understands why JT was upset, he needs to let him know.

“I know I can sometimes be a little cavalier about my own safety,” Malcolm says with a shrug and JT grunts like that’s the biggest understatement ever. “I’ve never been part of a team, before. Not really. Never had someone that cared about my well-being like that. Thank you for having my back.”

The tension and fear has slowly been draining from JT as he holds Malcolm in his arms, but he’s still left with this overabundance of adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream and he decides _fuck it_ as he crashes his lips against Bright's to show him just how much he cares about his well-being.

Their first kiss was gentle and sweet, a tentative affirmation that they were both alive and safe. This kiss is entirely different. It’s messy and passionate, and probably more forceful than it should be, but neither man seems to mind.

JT brings his hand around to the back of Malcolm’s head, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him in as their lips slide against each other, deepening the kiss. JT’s tongue darts out, seeking entrance to Bright’s mouth, which the smaller man eagerly grants.

Malcolm takes a half step forward, closing the distance between them and pressing their bodies together. The groan that escapes his mouth is mostly pleasure, mixed with a little bit of pain as JT wraps an arm around him, and Malcolm finds that he wants more of that. Wants JT to alter all of the hurts on his body, so that when that spot between his shoulder blades is stinging, he thinks of JT's warm hands pulling him closer, rather than the stairs smashing into his back. And when his ribs are throbbing, he thinks of JT's weight on top of him, rather than the killer’s foot slamming into his side. He wants JT to rewrite all of the marks on his body and make them his. To transform all of his pain into pleasure.

A whining plea escapes Malcolm’s lips at the thought of JT pinning him down and marking him as his own. He feels JT's reaction to the needy sound pressing into his hip as the man responds with a groan of his own.

“Please,” Malcolm begs, pulling back from the heated kiss and dropping his hands to JT’s belt buckle. It takes all his willpower, but he stills his hands, waiting for permission.

JT's eyes close as his head tilts back for a moment, whispering a strangled “fuck” before biting down on his lip and nodding down at Malcolm.

Malcolm smiles up at him briefly, one of the genuine smiles that he rarely has cause to share with the world, the kind of smile that lights up his face and attracted JT to the profiler in the first place. JT takes the opportunity to lean in and nip at that smile, running his tongue over the crease between Bright's lips. Lost in the kiss, it takes Malcolm a moment to remember his goal, but his fingers finally start working on the belt buckle and then move on to the button and fly of JT's pants.

He reaches inside JT's briefs and takes hold of his cock, both of them letting out simultaneous gasps; JT at the feel of Malcolm’s hand on his hardening member, Malcolm at the thickness of the cock now in his hand. Malcolm’s breath stutters imagining how it’s going to feel inside of him, filling him up.

“Fuck, you’re huge,” Malcolm says almost reverently, slowly starting to stroke the warm flesh.

JT brings his hand back up to tangle in Malcolm’s hair once again, pulling him in for a messy kiss before he playfully asks, “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Oh God, no,” is all the reply JT gets before Malcolm has dropped to his knees in front of him. Malcolm slides JT's pants and underwear halfway down his thighs, freeing JT's cock which has gone fully hard at the sight of Bright on his knees before him. Malcolm is wide-eyed and needy looking and _fuck is his mouth pretty,_ and JT only realizes he said it out loud when Malcolm looks up and shoots him a cocky grin.

JT rolls his eyes and gestures downwards, grumbling “You waiting for an invitation?”

Malcolm's smile turns lecherous and he leans in, wrapping a hand around the base of JT's cock and setting a few light kitten-licks to the head. He chuckles quietly when JT groans at the too-light pressure. Malcolm continues with the light licks for a minute before he takes pity and gives him two firm pumps from root to tip. He shifts his hand and licks a wet stripe over JT's balls and up the shaft, then pauses to swirl his tongue around the head.

JT’s hand makes its way into Bright’s hair without conscious thought, tugging gently at the locks, and Malcolm comes to the realization that JT likes his hair. Likes running his fingers through it, likes tugging at it. Would probably like pulling it a little harder while he fucks Malcolm’s mouth. The thought makes Malcolm’s cock twitch in his pants and he presses the heel of his hand to the front of his pants, keeping things in check.

JT notices the action and smiles down at Malcolm. In all his dirtiest fantasies about the man, JT never imagined he'd be such a cock slut, but the way he’s licking JT's cock like a lollipop, and clearly getting off on it, is doing JT in. He’s about to ask Bright if he'd like to move to the bed and get off the floor (it must be hell on his knees after his fall down the stairs) when Malcolm stretches his lips open wide and takes JT deep into his mouth.

“Fuuuuuuck,” JT moans, grip tightening in Malcolm’s hair, but restraining himself from pushing Malcolm’s head forward.

Bright bobs his head back and forth for a few minutes before pulling off with a pop and moving down to take each of JT's balls into his mouth in turn, tonguing and suckling while pumping JT's cock with his fist.

Once Malcolm finally works up the nerve to ask what he’s been thinking, he pulls back and looks up at JT, biting on his lip a little as he tries to decide the best way to say it. The site of Bright looking up at him, chewing on his lip, is the hottest fucking thing JT has ever seen.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” It slips out before JT has a chance to even think about it, but he wouldn’t take it back for the world, seeing how Malcolm’s face lights up as he offers a bashful smile.

“What do you want, Bright?”

“Everything.”

JT chuckles at the quick response.

“What do you want right now?”

“I want you to pull my hair and fuck my face.”

“Jesus fuck, man,” JT exhales. “When did you get such a filthy mouth?”

Malcolm flashes a smile and then opens his mouth wide, the heat of his breaths pouring over the tip of JT's cock as he lines up his mouth and then stills, waiting for JT to make a move.

JT rubs his thumb briefly over Malcolm’s bottom lip asking, “You sure?”

Malcolm nods, mouth still agape.

He pushes in slowly and starts a light rocking pace, giving Bright a chance to adjust before picking up the pace. JT runs his hands through Malcolm’s hair a few times and then wraps his hands in at the roots on either side of his head and _pulls_ , at the same time as he pushes into Bright’s mouth a little more forcefully, cock hitting the back of Malcolm’s throat.

Malcolm's moan is obscene and the vibrations run straight through JT's cock. Malcolm brings his hands to the other man's hips, resting them there lightly and running his thumbs in gentle circles over his hipbones, in no way trying to hold JT back or set the pace. JT starts pumping in earnest, and he notices how Bright starts rocking his own hips, searching for friction.

JT quickly notices that the harder he pumps into Malcolm’s mouth and the tighter he pulls his hair, the more Bright moans and the faster he rolls his own hips. Malcolm’s pants are starting to look uncomfortably tight when JT bucks his hips forward while pulling Malcolm’s head in, his cock pressing into Malcolm’s throat and briefly cutting off his air supply. He almost blows his load as Malcolm swallows around his length, but pulls back and sets a punishing pace, fucking almost violently into Malcolm’s mouth. JT is practically choking him with his cock when Malcolm cries out, or at least tries to, and his hands tighten around JT’s hips. JT is worried for half a second that he’s hurt him, but then he notices the wet spot spreading over the front of Malcolm’s pants and realizes that the kid just came, untouched, just from having his face fucked.

And that does it for JT. Two more pumps and he’s shooting his load into Bright’s mouth, Bright swallowing it down like a champ. JT rides out his orgasm, gently rocking on Malcolm’s tongue, until it borders on oversensitivity. He pulls out of Bright’s mouth with panting breaths, gentling his hold on Malcolm’s hair, rubbing his scalp as he catches his breath. Malcolm closes his eyes, equal parts debauched and content, and JT's heart tugs painfully in his chest.

“Promise me something, Bright?” He asks quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful calm that’s settled over Malcolm like a blanket.

Malcolm opens his eyes and looks up at JT with a kind of dopey look.

“Be more careful with yourself,” JT brings one of his hands forward to cup Malcolm’s face, not terribly surprised when Malcolm leans into the touch. “I’d like to keep doing this with you, but that means you need to be around.”

“I’ll be more careful,” he promises.

JT helps Malcolm to his feet and Malcolm groans, the pain settling back in as the orgasm-induced oxytocin wears off. JT folds him gently in his arms and whispers, “Shower?” in his ear. Malcolm hums an affirmative and grabs JT's hand to lead him into the bathroom. The entire time they’re showering and cleaning up in the bathroom, Malcolm is never more than half a foot from JT, and for some reason, a needy, post-orgasm Malcolm pleases JT to no end.

After getting cleaned up they make their way to Bright’s bed, fingers entwined and nearly tripping over one another in a bid to stay as close together as possible. They both catch sight of the restraints on the bed at the same time. Malcolm’s not sure if he’s turned on or embarrassed. JT knows exactly which one he’s feeling. The thought of Malcolm tied down beneath him makes him nearly light headed as all of his blood heads south in a rush. But he’s not as young as he once was and his refractory period is longer than it used to be. So he nips Malcolm’s earlobe and growls, “We’re gonna use those later,” and Malcolm’s not entirely sure if it’s a threat or a promise, but he hopes it’s a little of both.

They climb into bed together, Malcolm tenderly maneuvering his body to tuck into JT's, JT automatically wrapping his arms around the profiler's slim frame, protecting him now like he couldn’t before.

They lay quietly for a while, taking comfort in each other’s presence, until Malcolm finally breaks the silence.

“I can’t actually sleep like this, you know. I need the restraints,” he says it apologetically, face still buried in JT's chest.

“It’s fine, Bright. We’ll figure it out,” JT pauses and hesitantly adds, “But if you’re up for it, and you give me another 20 minutes or so, we could use those restraints for another purpose first,” JT wiggles his eyebrows when Malcolm looks up at him.

“Oh, I’m definitely up for it, detective,” Malcolm answers with a chuckle and a roll of his hips. “I’ve been fantasizing about you holding me down and fucking me for months. I can’t wait to have your huge cock inside of me.”

JT groans and pulls him in for a kiss and decides maybe he doesn’t need 20 minutes after all.

**Author's Note:**

> *nervously bites nails*


End file.
